


Erzart

by Arithanas



Category: Les Misérables (Dallas 2014)
Genre: BDSM, Forced Eye Contact, Gunplay, Handcuffs, Kneeling, M/M, Objectification/Dehumanization, Sex Slave Role Play, Under-negotiated Kink, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: Javert needed a relief and he took the chance when he found it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellamason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellamason/gifts).



The first thing Inspector Javert noticed was the letter. A local currier put it in his desk yesterday with the rest of his mail. Innocuous and menacing at the same time, to the untrained eye it was such a common place thing to receive.

The blank envelope was sitting on his desk since and it was taunting him. Javert loathed the feeling with every fiber of his being.

His mind flew again to his office window, knowing very well he could stand by it and peer through it. He could steal another look from the Major and give his brain more redundant fuel. It took most of his will to stop himself. Stalking the Major won't further the solution and succumbing to temptation will only waste his time.

For another quarter of hour, he tried to focus on the blank forms. So many cases pending and so little time to fill the registers. Javert fought to keep his attention in his files and his late paperwork. The black letters on the clean exterior of the letter proved to be a powerful distraction.

He sipped his black coffee and gave the offending letter a wary look. Once again, Javert wondered why he allowed himself to succumb to temptation. He could muster several reasons, all empty. The true was evident and there was no use to deny it. The animal part of his nature needed as much sustenance as his intellectual part. The mystery of the Major's identity satisfied his intellectual needs. His loins refused such a little fodder. He blamed his time in prison for that inconvenience.

His fingers reached for the letter, turning it and trying to find any other sign. Nothing of the sort, it was a letter without the sender address. Local postmark, he expected nothing less, but that didn't serve more information. The sender fulfilled the expectation of discretion. Javert felt like everyone could notice he was being naughty and unprofessional. Even if the paper didn’t state it, Inspector Javert knew it have come from a house of sin.

Succumbing to temptation was never a pleasant feeling. Inspector Javert steeled himself against it and took his brass paper knife.

If the club was writing him, that meant they found a suitable match to suit his particular tastes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This person has agreed to submit to most of your terms and, following the directives of the club, we present to you his list of demands._   
>  _First of all, this person demands complete anonymity. To that end, he refuses to take out any of the garments they present themselves with. We have been asked to stress this to you._   
>  _This person also agrees with some extent to body modification, but regretfully refuses to admit anything permanent. If you proceed at your own risk, then we must warn you we are ready to proceed legally in their behalf._   
>  _Lastly, we must inform their safe-word for all the sessions you both have together would be “ _candleholder_ ”._   
>  _If you agree to these terms, your first session is scheduled by the calendar you provided for the next..._

Javert left his long coat in the locker the club provided, along with his identification and valuables. For a moment, he hesitated to leave his gun in there. His nimble fingers took out the clip and opened the chamber. Ammo can’t do any harm without a gun.

He looked at his image in the mirror. His shirt was white, but that was the only difference from his uniform in prison. Javert passed a hand over his beard and put his cap on. He was ready to walk the long corridor to his date, wondering what was waiting for him at the end of it.

It was obvious the club have been taking good care of its installations. The club fees were affordable and well-tended. Javert wondered how many members do they had. The grand lobby was an open place. He approved the clean, industrial look that talked to him of efficiency and hygiene. The high end finish touches in the place surprised Javert in a pleasant way.

The flutter of anticipation was almost unbearable as he stepped into the laid floors. He was not only hopping for a warm embrace, but stamina and some force to tame. There was no way to imagine another man who could fulfill the role of his fantasies like 24601. The Major was a chance, but Javert was not counting with that Hail Mary.

He chided himself under the breath. He was not looking for anything permanent, but for some fleeting and passing pleasure. An ersatz for that he couldn’t grasp at the moment.

He reached the playroom. Out of habit, he checked the number and took a deep breath before turning the knob.

Javert entered the room and feel a bit confused. A figure dress in black neoprene waited for him at ease. Square shoulders, powerful legs, wide chest; this person complied with the specification.  An eyeless mask with a flap to give access to the mouth covered the round head.  The  plastic fabric without any logos or stitches shone with quality.

“Prisoner!” Javert couldn’t help himself. It was a long learned habit and it suited him so well. “Attention.”

The speed at which those shoulders squared and that head raised pleased Javert. He felt the smile tugging his lips and he was quick to pull his cap down. That faceless face was almost perfect in its lack of expression.

 Javert knew he was in front of a man who had experience with the penitentiary system.  The lack of identity bugged him at first, anonymity failed to arouse him.  The lack of features in his dummy had an unexpected advantage.

His mind raced to fill the perfect canvas of his blank stare. It could be 24601 wondering what new torment Javert have concocted for him. It could be Madeline, pleading for his ruined reputation. That layer of fabric could bear any portrait Javert find fit to stoke his arousal in lonely nights.

“I’ll lay the law to you right now, prisoner,” Javert started his speech with calm voice. The same words he delivered to all the prisoners in his old job. His hand closed around the polished stick in his belt. “You are nothing. You have no rights while you and I share this room. You are what I want you to be and no more.”

His words provoked a long shudder, but the prisoner didn’t resist.

“What do you do beyond these walls, prisoner?” Javert asked, turning around and getting a nice look of that wide back. The suit was assless and backless. Javert found himself staring at darker skin with a reddish undertone. This substitute was getting better and better with each detail.

“I work in bureaucracy…” The mask muffled the reply but the words were still comprehensible.

Javert smiled a wicked smile before delivering a blow to the knee. “Wrong answer, prisoner.”

The man in neoprene suit fell to his knees. The stick didn’t fell down with force. There will be no permanent damage but Javert smiled when the prisoner reacted like it was a real harm.

“You are nothing beyond these walls,” Javert corrected, placing his knee in the small of the prisoner’s back. He placed his nightstick across the prisoner’s neck and pulled it toward his chest. Javert found his cock hardening inside his gabardine trousers. “Beyond these walls, you don’t exist.”

The prisoner tried to prevent the choking maneuver. His hands fought to get hold of the nightstick but Javert was quick and pressed his windpipe. Enough to make him trash but not enough to threaten his life. Enough to feel his power over this unnamed piece of meat.

His movement made little difference to the prisoner. Javert could feel the panic driven thrashing in the palms of his hands.

“Hands behind your head, if you want to save your neck.”

Hands flew to the nape of the prisoner’s neck with blinding speed. The prisoner offered fingers shaking and extended hands in exquisite submission. Javert stop the pressure to put a cuff around the right wrist. The click of the handcuffs was final and definitive. A thin layer of metal joined the prisoner's tremor and Javert's excitement. With a faint smile, Javert tugged the collar of the mask. The ripping sound of Velcro made the prisoner shudder.

“I don’t wanna see your dirty mug,” Javert explained, passing the strap over the cuffs before he cuffed the left wrist. “You can breathe, prisoner.”

Javert smiled at the result of his handiwork. If the prisoner tried to wrestle the cuffs, he would choke himself or he would lose his mask. Either way, the prisoner won't move. His mind returned to prisoner 24601 and his cock stirred. Javert would have love to have 24601 in the same posture.

“You belong to me,” Javert said. His hand extended to cup the masked chin and forcing the face in his direction. “Do you understand it?”

The blank face was harrowing in its emptiness but Javert preferred that way. His mind flew to 24601’s harrowed face and the pressure in his pants was painful. He couldn't see the faint nod; he felt it in his hand. Javert pulled out his empty gun and pressed it to the slick neoprene fabric.

“Once again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the voice was shocked but understandable. The gun was taken out and placed in its proper holster.

“Good.” Javert was pleased with the title. “Now, stay still.”

There was another little present for his prisoner and Javert was aching to try it. With the prisoner safely secure Javert went down to his knees and took a plastic contraption from his pocket. This cockcage was pretty severe but certainly would pass muster the most critical rules of the club. His hand separated both parts and placed them in the floor.

Javert could barely believe his excitement when his fingers rolled the heavy balls and passed the plastic ring pass them. The prisoner was trembling while the operation was taking place and his heavy cock pulsated in Javert’s hand.

“I’ll put the rest of it before I go, prisoner, so get your joy while you can,” Javert warned, rising to his feet. “Now, we have a little business to finish.”

The sound of Javert’s fly as he pulled it down was almost deafening. The prisoner reacted as if it was the sound of a repeating gun. Javert pulled the strap revealing a pair of full lips and a gasping mouth full of white teeth.

“Now, get to work, boy,” Javert instructed and placed the gun to that smooth shinny brow, “and mind the teeth…”

With a weary sigh, the prisoner opened his mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A friendly reminder that the play dates will be cancelled if any of the parts involved failed to comply to more of one of the scheduled appointments without a proper 24 hour notice._
> 
>  
> 
> _If this situation comes to pass, the management would be grateful if you inform us if you want us to arrange a meeting with a more suitable partner._
> 
>  
> 
> _Remember keep it Safe, Sane and Consensual!_

The figure that entered the locker room was shaking and moved as if each of his joints were rusting. The other members of the club didn’t spare him a look. The man dressed in neoprene didn’t begrudge them for being self-absorbed. They were still enjoying the glorious afterglow of their sessions.

The man exchanged a cordial nod before ambling toward his private cubicle. It was small, two feet by three with space for a bench, a locker and a wash basin. This man closed the door behind him, grateful for this little bit of privacy.

With a deep sigh, he sat at the bench and rubbed his aching shoulder. It wasn’t long before he noticed how much his whole body ached. His limbs felt tired and heavy, but his hand reached inside his locker and took out the menthol ointment.

He was sobbing like a kid while the grease entered his sore joints. He shook his head from side to side, as if he couldn’t believe the last hour and half of his life. His trembling hands reached for the Velcro strap at the back of his neck. The mask peeled off his sweaty face. His perspiration and tears pooling in his neck and the air over his hot skin felt like a slap.

“Why?” Jean Valjean asked to himself as he wiped his greasy hands on a towel.

He was not too sure if he was asking why he submitted himself to that treatment or why he was so shaken. Those questions made no sense to him. The important questions seldom make any.

The only thing that mattered for the time being was that man and his eyes. Those eyes that bored holes through the neoprene of his suit. That man that looked at him as if he could read the number on his chest and made him weak in the knees.

His blood rushed. His muscled trembled. His crotch stirred.

Jean Valjean was grateful, once again, for the privacy the small room provided.


End file.
